Page 20 of All the Ways You Save Me
He rubs the back of his neck again. “I’m intrigued. I’ll try one of your graphic novels.”
Jason’s voice cuts in from the stairs at the end of the hall. “Are you guys coming?”
“Be there in a minute,” Adam calls before turning back to me. “So, you learned all about this from that one English teacher?”
“Mrs. Friedman was the best.” My heart tugs at the memory of my old mentor. “She always knew exactly what books torecommend and how to inspire her students to love reading. I want to be just like her someday.”
“Well, it sounds to me like you’re already halfway there.” His gaze is steady on my face, but I feel an overwhelming sense that he’s taking in so much more than my ordinary configuration of eyes and nose and mouth. He’s really seeingme.Not just the good parts, but my jumble of uncertainty and insecurity and doubt. “You should consider volunteering at the library. I bet you could inspire a lot of people like Mrs. Friedman did for you.”
It’s such a perfect suggestion. Back on Sandy Harbor, most of my activities revolved around the water, but that’s not an option in Maple Ridge. Kids play sports, like Jason, but the teams are already formed, and I’d never make the cut. When my mom and I first moved here, I went into the bookstore to inquire about after-school jobs, but the owner and her wife said they’ve been running the place for thirty years and generally don’t need more help.
Volunteering at the library might disperse that cloud of aimlessness that’s been drifting around me since we moved here, and maybe it would help me feel more connected to this place, too. “You think they’d want me as a volunteer?”
“Who wouldn’t want you?” Adam says.
“Come on,” Jason calls more urgently.
I remember my worries that Adam and I might make him feel like a third wheel. “We should go.”
We head down to the basement into a large open space with a bar at one end, a pool table at the other, and an oversized couch and two chairs arranged in front of a TV. One of the chairs is piled with sheets, a blanket, and pillows.
“Is this where you stay?” I ask Adam.
He nods. “Yep.”
I turn to Jason. “It’s so nice of your parents.”
Jason shrugs. “It’s no big deal. They feel bad because theyuse the spare rooms upstairs as home offices, so Adam gets stuck in the dungeon.”
“It’s a pretty nice dungeon.” I remember Adam saying that he and his parents lived in a trailer, which couldn’t have been much bigger than this spacious room. It even looks like it has its own bathroom in the corner, and there’s a sink and mini fridge in the bar area.
“Jason and his family have been the best,” Adam says, staring out across the room. “I don’t know what I would have done without them…”
“Aw, man, stop it.” Jason ducks his head and gives Adam’s shoulder a shove. He peeks at me like he’s embarrassed to be seen getting emotional.
I give him a smile, feeling my own emotions well up at the closeness of their friendship.
We hang out and the guys teach me how to play pool, something I never learned on Sandy Harbor since beach houses don’t have basements like this one. I’m not very good at it, but I don’t care, especially when Adam stands close behind me, his chest pressed to my back, showing me how to hold the pool cue in his steady hand. Later, Adam volunteers to go upstairs to grab some snacks, and Jason and I settle on the couch to look for a movie.
“You really are a good friend,” I say to Jason, reiterating Adam’s words from earlier. “It’s so sad that his parents died.”
Jason drops the remote control in his lap and turns to look at me. “It was sad before they died, too. You know his dad was an alkie, right? They lived in a crappy trailer, and he basically drank himself to death.”
“Oh,” I murmur, not sure what to say to that. Though Adam told me a little bit about his parents yesterday, it sounds pretty rough to hear it like this from Jason.
“Adam’s had a hard life. He basically raised himself, and he’s been on his own. Not like you and me growing up withparents who are involved in our lives and help us with homework and planning for the future, and normal stuff like that.”
“Well, he seems to be doing okay on his own.”
“Yeah, I mean, he doesn’t take AP classes or anything.” Jason looks at me across the couch cushions. “Not like us. And he probably won’t go to college.”
“He could, though. If he wanted to,” I say. Adam and I didn’t talk much about our plans for after graduation yesterday. We still have so much to learn about each other, and the thought gives me a little thrill.
Jason shakes his head. “The way he grew up, it’s like a different culture from us. His dad worked as a mechanic and his mom was a waitress. College wasn’t a thing. And they definitely didn’t save for it. I think when his dad died, they were dead broke.”
I shift in my seat, starting to grow uncomfortable with this conversation. I’m not sure where Jason is going with all of this, but it feels like we’re gossiping. If Adam wants me to know more about his history, he’ll tell me himself. I don’t like talking about him behind his back, and I can’t help feeling like Jason’s trying to give me a warning, but I’m not sure exactly what it’s about. Adam’s dad’s drinking and money situation don’t change how I feel about him.
I look at Jason sideways. “Well, he still has time to decide what he wants to do, right? And I’m sure he’ll be good at whatever he chooses whether that’s college or something else.” Jason said Adam’s dad was a mechanic. Maybe Adam’s hands are stained from working on cars, too. “AP classes aren’t everything.”
